"What the fuck were you thinkin', Sam?" Dean shouted, slamming the motel room door behind him. He stared daggers at his brother who was standing in the middle of the room, chewing at the inside of his lip and staring at the floor.

"I was thinking that I wasn't going to let you die," Sam snapped, his gaze lifting. "Don't patronize me, Dean. I know you think you're the best damn hunter in the world and that no one can do it like you, but I know what I'm doing."

"You so sure about that? That thing almost killed you!"

"But it didn't! I'm still here!" He threw his hands up in the air, gesturing for Dean to take a good look. "I'm right here and I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Dean disputed, his voice lowering and his eyes softening as he took in the gashes and bruises on his little brother's face.

"I've been a hell of a lot worse."

"That's not the point, Sam! The point…oh, fuck it. I'm goin' to bed. Clean your face up." He threw off his leather jacket and headed for the bed.

Sam sighed heavily and watched Dean as he stripped off his shirt, tossing it angrily onto the floor. "Man, let's not do this…we both made it outta there. Can we just be happy about that?"

"Sammy…," Dean muttered, eyes fixed on the nightstand for a long moment before he turned around. "I'm not mad at you. I just…"

He flailed his arms in frustration, apparently struggling with saying the words that were on his mind. That was typical Dean. He was much better at yelling and barking orders than sharing his feelings properly.

"You just…what?" Sam teased, smirking at his brother. He slowly moved towards him, eyes locked with his, and went on, "Can't live without me? Would die if something happened to me?"

"Shut up," Dean grumbled, a small laugh escaping him as he shook his head.

"C'mon, Dean…admit it. You'd be lost without me."

They were standing directly in front of each other now and Sam reached forward, trailing the tips of his fingers down Dean's chest. Dean shivered under his touch and smiled.

"So damn needy, dude," he retorted, laying his hand over his brother's and holding it against his skin. "Ya know I love you; what else do ya want me to say?"

Sam chuckled at that and leaned in, pressing a soft, but eager kiss to Dean's lips. "Everything. You don't always have to be so damn tough, ya know?"

"And you don't always have to be such a bitch." He said it with love and Sam knew it.

"Caring about you makes me a bitch, huh?"

"Yep. My bitch." Dean grinned mischievously at him before he dodged around him and went to flop down on the bed. Sam spun around, snatching his arm and pulling him close again before he had a chance to reach the mattress.

Sam didn't speak this time, he just kissed him. He kissed him hard and hungry, his hands grasping Dean's face as he poured out every ounce of fear and pain he had felt at the thought of losing the man before him. If Dean didn't want to talk that was fine, but Sam was going to let him know exactly why he'd done what he had.

When he finished he pulled back, releasing his brother's face and staring at him with eyes that were filled with every ounce of love he had for Dean. It was a strange kind of love, one that most people wouldn't understand. It was a family bond—it was blood—but it was so much more than that.

Dean was the only thing he had. In a world of danger and darkness, he was a safe harbor that Sam always knew he could count on. Everything else in his world was temporary—passed him by like the signs on the roads they traveled together—but his brother…he was there through everything. If he ever lost that…if he lost the only person in the word he could trust…

"Dean, I did what I did because I can't live with you," he said adamantly. "You're all I've got."

A small smile spread over Dean's lips and Sam could practically watch his walls coming down. That hard exterior that he showed the world disappeared for one of very few times and Sam was so thankful in that moment to know he was the only person who got to see him like this.

"C'mere, Sammy," Dean said softly, taking Sam's hands and pulling him gently over to the bed. They both lay down and cuddled close to each other, Dean absent mindedly playing with his brother's hair.

They looked at each other and Sam knew that the conversation was over. He didn't mind though. He knew that this was Dean's way of telling him that he couldn't be without him either.